


Fissures Dans Le Masque

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Series: Le Grincement [1]
Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Creepy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Language Barrier, M/M, Mindfuck, Mystery, Night Terrors, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Horror, Sexual Content, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Mick Mars, a single father of three, is requested to come to the manor of his great-great grandfather and live there to rebuild.There, he meets a mysterious Frenchman named Nikki who works on the property, and finds himself embroiled in a mystery older than time itself.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Series: Le Grincement [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087373
Comments: 18
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The best part about being a teenager is being able to write teenagers.  
> Anyways, I hope that you guys like this one.  
> At least I can say I tried, right?

' _Dear Mr. Deal,_

_You are probably wondering who I am, and why I am writing to you. I beg of you to continue reading, because I am in dire need of help._

_We all are._

_Several years ago, your great, great-grandfather built this manor from the ground up, and, upon his death, he begged that the manor not fall into decay. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened to the manor, with only the staff left to care for it, which was a terrible decision, truly. Nobody was there to care for it, and it fell to nature._

_Recently, his will was uncovered, and it came to light that he requested that his most available descendant come to the manor and care for it. Upon my investigation, I discovered that you are his only relative that seems to be able to complete the tasks that this manor requests._

_It is a very interesting request, and I imagine that you will have a hard time making a decision thinking about it, and perhaps understanding that this isn't a scam. With this letter, I have enclosed some documents that will perhaps enable you to understand what this request entails, and ask that you respond accordingly._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Nicholas Dingley.'_

For some reason, the words didn't settle in Mick's mind, and instead they stared up at him, like they wanted to lunge from the letter and attach themselves to his face like some demented creature from a horror movie. 

It was almost like a movie, now that Mick was thinking about it, as he held the paper in his hands. This sort of weird shit only happened in movies, after all, because such fantastic and unbelievable things only happened in the fictional world. 

At least, not to Mick. 

The letter was almost like some prank, except Mick dropped it onto the table and grabbed the other letters. The name on the envelope was written in the same spider-like scrawl, skittery and quick. Mick frowned, unsure if he should open the envelopes or just toss them in the trash and forget that they ever existed in the first place. 

It was a tantalizing thought, anyways, but Mick tore the envelopes open and quickly scanned the papers. They looked official, at any rate. Mick didn't know what to think, because he had never heard of 'St Louise's Manor', and even if he had, then the whole thing was still unbelievable. 

This sort of thing happened to the kids that Mick had went to high school with, not him, and that was a cold reminder of how unbelievable that really was. 

"Hey, dad." Erik paused in the threshold, frowning, his eyebrows beginning to furrow as he stared at his father, who was still standing, rooted in the exact same spot that he'd been left in over ten minutes ago. "What's that?" He asked, walking over slowly. 

Mick swallowed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know." He answered honestly, still unsure if this was a joke. But it seemed offical, anyways. Mick looked over the documents, taking note of the name that was on top of one of the papers. Supposedly, it was the name of an official will executed. Mick knew that he would have to look him up. 

"What do you mean?" Erik came walking up, trying to peer over his father's elbow to see the documents, but Mick quickly ducked away, folding the paper and sticking it into his jacket. 

"None of your business." Mick replied, grabbing the rest of the papers. "Where are your siblings?" He asked. 

Erik shrugged. "Les is out with friends and Stormy is upstairs. What are those papers, Dad?" He followed Mick out into the living room. 

Mick grabbed his laptop, not keen on letting Erik know about what was going on, no matter how much he begged or pleaded. He wasn't even sure if this was a scam or not, and even if it wasn't, then he wasn't even sure if this was the sort of thing he wanted to explore or not. "Remember that talk we had about personal space? Yeah, I think we need to enforce that." He sat down on the couch, wincing when the quick motion sent a sharp echo of pain up his back. 

"C'mon. I'm sixteen!" Erik sighed, walking back into the kitchen with his exaggerated walk that he did whenever he was angry about not being treated like an adult. 

There was something that was almost natural about the back-and-forth that it didn't even bother Mick anymore, and he only typed in the name of the supposed will executor. Despite the general sense of just being in a prank, something about it didn't sit right with Mick, like it wasn't a prank. 

He typed in the name, watching as the screen loaded and then filled with several links to websites. The first one seemed promising, and Mick clicked on it, quickly reading the description of the article. 

It was a real guy, after all, and he seemed to have done several such things in the past. Mick wasn't sure if he was supposed to be reassured or not by that, because he was still kinda freaked out. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure about what he was going to do. 

Maybe Mick could just tear the letters up and pretend that he'd never gotten them, but a part of him was fascinated by it, drawn to it, like a moth to a flame in the night. He was interested in what lay in the request, and he pulled the letter from his jacket, unfolding it and looking at the words once more.

Mick reopened the search tab and typed in the name of the manor, and this time, less results popped up. There was a Wikipedia link for the manor, and it took Mick to a page with a black-and-white photograph of a large, beautiful house, surrounded by tall hedges and dying trees. The house seemed impossibly large, and looked - well, ominous. 

The short stub below told Mick that a man named Glenn Deal had built the house back in 1830 for his wife and children, several of whom met tragic fates, and one of whom disappeared mysteriously on their birthday. Glenn Deal and his Wife, whose name wasn't listed, later committed suicide on their anniversary. 

"Spooky." Mick dead panned into the empty room, typing the name of the man who had written the letters. 

No results came up. 

With an exhausted sigh, Mick shut the laptop and tossed it onto the couch cushion beside him, burying his face in his hands. He had no idea that today his life would take such a weird, dramatic turn, and he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with it. 

If Mick's parents were still alive, he could've just asked them, but they had long passed away and there wasn't much of an extended family. Mick wondered if he still had a cousin's phone number tucked away somewhere. He shook his head, unable to believe it. 

Things like this only happened in fiction, not in real life, and certainly not to a man named Mick Mars. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Two** **Weeks Later**

The French Countryside was truly a beautiful place, with darkened woods and towering mountains. 

Despite his initial reluctance, and the general taboo surrounding such a situation at hand, Mick found himself becoming strangely at ease as he watched the trees fly by, the sight becoming more and more beautiful as time passed. The train ride had only supposed to have taken two hours, but Mick was sure that longer had gone by, since the sky was now beginning to darken considerably. 

It had taken awhile for Mick to make his decision regarding the house, and about what he was supposed to do. For some reason, declining the request felt wrong, and leaving his ancestor's manor to fall into nature and not be claimed didn't sit right with Mick. 

With that being said, Mick still didn't feel completely comfortable. 

"No WiFi, Dad." Les said, his tone disappointed and soft under the other sounds. "I can't connect to anything." He swung his legs and looked up, lips puckered into a saddened pout. 

Mick smiled, hoping not to seem too excited by the prospect. "It's just for a few weeks, Les. You can handle some time away the internet." He peered out the window. "There's a beautiful view." He commented. 

"I don't _want_ a view, dad." Les said with an annoyed sigh, stuffing his phone inside of his backpack. "I want to be in America." He crossed his arms and sunk into his seat, probably hoping to punish Mick with his silence, when he was actually rewarding his father after two long plane rides, a car ride, and then this train ride. 

Far from disappointed, Stormy was enjoying herself greatly. "Look at all of the trees! What does the manor look like, Daddy? Is there woods there?" She asked. 

"Yes." Mick answered with a nod. "There's a small village there, too." He hadn't thought to show the kids what little pictures that he had of the manor. To be fair, however, Mick had been busy with travel plans and decisions, knowing that this was a huge leap, but it wasn't like he could just leave it, right? 

The kids had school, and Mick had work, but he managed to weasel in three weeks at the manor. He had no idea what to expect or what to think, only that there was supposedly construction workers already at the sight. Mick didn't understand half of what was going on - Nicholas Dingley seemed to be in charge of operations, but what he did exactly was a mystery. 

Evidently, Nicholas was the only person who spoke good English, because he wasn't actually French. He was British, and served as the line of communications between Mick and whoever else he had needed to speak to. Once Mick has gotten confirmation that this was all legitimate, he had taken a few days to think about what he was going to do. 

"Ohhh, it's gonna be so pretty." Stormy said with a tone of great infatuation as she sat on her knees to stare out the window. She had been excitedly taking pictures just a few minutes ago, but now she seemed too caught up for anything more than to stare. "Are there deer, there?" 

"Plenty of deer." Mick paused to think. "Honey, I know that you're going to be excited once we get there, but I do _not_ want you out of my sight." 

Stormy frowned, turning to look at her father with wide eyes. "Why not?" She asked, like it was such an unusual thing to be told. 

"Because it's easy to get lost, I'm sure." Mick answered. "And there's wolves." 

Well, Nicholas had said that the wolves rarely approached people, but that when they got hungry enough, that a small child would become prey. There was also a small colony of wild dogs that lived in the area, who were used to human interaction and, although they lived far enough away that they weren't too much of a problem, occasionally had to be scared off with a gun, especially in the winter months. 

The trees slowly turned into small houses and little bakeries, with smoke pluming from chimnies like they'd burst been transported back in time. Mick looked down at his messenger bag, and opened it, pushing around the contents until he managed to find his French Dictionary. Mick only knew the most basic of French words that most English people knew from movies and books, but didn't care to be completely lost in this new place. 

"This is so stupid, Dad." Les said, breaking the relative silence. 

Erik tossed his hand in the air, face pinched in irritation. "Will you shut up, Les?" 

Despite his annoyance at how difficult Les was making it, Mick could see why he was doing it, and knew that he couldn't be too harsh. It was a big situation to toss them into, and it wasn't like they'd been given much of a choice. Mick sighed and flipped absently through the book.

"Don't tell your brother to shut up, Erik." Mick said. "And, Les, I know that you don't like this, but it's just for a little while, okay? And then we're back in America." 

"And then what, Dad? You drag us back?" Les said, his face twisting. "I hate it here already." He huffed. 

Stormy turned around to look at him. "Why! We haven't even been there a full day!"

Just as she asked that, the train came to a slow stop, and Mick looked out the window, only to see that they had pulled into a small train station. There were a few scattered groups of people lingering around, and Mick remembered that there should be someone there to take them to the Manor. Nicholas had said that he'd sent someone who spoke relatively good English, but that didn't make Mick any less worried. 

When the motion turned to stillness, Mick stood up, wincing, before holding out his hand to help Stormy up. They'd all been sitting for way too long, and that was just another issue. 

Mick had wished more than anything that none of his children would inherit his disease, but Stormy had, and although it wasn't too bad yet, Mick knew that it would worsen as she got older. Thankfully, Erik and Les had managed to escape it, and Mick knew that he had to pick his battles. 

They grabbed their overhead bags, and Mick, with Stormy's hand secured within his own, and with one last glance at his sons to make sure that they were still close and that Les wasn't going to make a last-ditch attempt to somehow make it back to America, they entered the throng of people that were also trying to leave the train. 

It felt like they were all a bunch of fish at sea, fighting for escape from a fishermen's net, and by the time Mick managed to get himself and the kids out onto the platform, he was breathless and had nearly gotten elbowed in the face. 

"Jesus." Mick muttered, shivering in the cold air. "It's cold here, huh?" He looked up at the grey, overcast sky. 

That was a vast understatement, but nothing else could seem to describe the freezing air that creeped underneath Mick's coat and crawled up his spine. He shifted the weight of the duffel bag that he had on his shoulder, and then looked around the crowded platform. 

It was, at that moment, that Mick realized that Nicholas hadn't told them what the person that was picking them up looked like. "Oh, fuck." Mick muttered, knowing that his phone was effectively useless because he hadn't bought any minutes. 

"What?" Erik asked, turning around from where he was staring around at the other people surrounding them. 

Mick pressed his lips thinly. "I just realized something." He replied. 

And then a young man came pushing through the crowd, dressed in a heavy black overcoat and rubber boots. His hair was a wild mess, eyes wide as he came to a stop in front of Stormy, who stared up at him with her mouth agape. 

Looking up at the man, Mick felt relief in his chest. "Are you the driver?" He asked.

"Um - Oh, désolé - I am Tommy." The man smiled awkwardly. "I am your driver."


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, either French driving laws were a lot different than the American ones, or Tommy had broken the speed barrier...twice, and having the time of his life while doing it. 

Mick bit his tongue and smiled reassuringly at Stormy. "He knows what he's doing, sweetheart." He said, and then Mick looked at Tommy, who was grinning like he'd just won a million dollars. "Sir, would you mind slowing down?" 

"Hmmm? Oh, Oui, Monsieur." Tommy said, and he slowed down just as they went over a rock, causing one half of the car to lift slightly. "You have my apologies. I am used to traveling alone." He said. "And no need for formalities, please." 

"Congratulations, Dad." Les said, arms crossed and with the distinct glare of unhappiness on his face. "You're gonna get us all killed." He sunk lower in his seat and looked out the window, but, as was the same sight that'd welcomed them for the past fifteen minutes, there were only trees and trees upon trees. 

"I thought it was fun." Erik said, but his voice went unheard as they went over another rock. He was closest to the window, and he squinted, peering put of the glass. "Hey, I think I see something!" He exclaimed. 

"What?" Mick adjusted his grip on Stormy and glanced out his own window, but he saw nothing but the same gnarled and twisted trees. He felt strangely at a loss about what was going on, and he suddenly remembered the day he'd first gotten the letter, and how unwilling he'd been. 

Now, two weeks later, Mick was just as unwilling, and he was suddenly glad for the Swiss Army knife that he'd bought at a shop that they'd visited after landing in such an unfamiliar place. Mick reached down and pressed his fingers against the knife in his pocket - he doubted that anything would happen, but he knew the risks and the idea of his children being at risk entered his mind again. 

"Oui, jeune monsieur." Tommy said. "We should be approaching the mansion now, but I figure that I should warn you of a few things before we depart." He took a right into the trees, and suddenly, the sun seemed to have disappeared beyond the leaves and the oak branches. 

"And what is that?" Mick asked. 

Tommy smiled a little, and his face flashed in the rearview mirror before he looked back at the darkened road that looked more like a twisted trail. "The mansion is perfectly safe, I should assure you. Old as it may be, there's no dangers that you or your children should worry about, monsieur." He said. 

And yet, Mick raised his eyebrows. "But...?" He implored, waiting to hear some dire news that hadn't been included in the letters. 

"But the woods are home to some creatures." Tommy said, taking another sharp right. "There are bears, but they do not come close unless food is left outside, which I think goes without saying should not be done." 

Suddenly, the trees pulled away, and the sun appeared again, this time casting its light down on a vaguely ominous shape that took Mick a minute to realize what it truly was. Mick had studied countless pictures, but none quite prepared him for the beauty of the mansion, for the timeless mystery that surrounded its rusty bricks and the black roof. 

The curtains to every window were pulled tightly shut, and wilted flowers hung from boxes that dangled from the sills. There were boxes, empty and full, that sat near and around the front door. 

"Holy shit." Les remarked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. He sounded breathless and in awe of the house in front of him, having been subjected to either the city or the suburbs for most, if not all, his life. Mansions were a thing from the movies and old mystery books, not for reality. 

Mick decided to let that one slide, and just stayed quiet as Tommy pulled to the side near a gathering of trees. The ground was pavement, but there was a thick covering of brown and yellow leaves that were scattered above it. Despite this, most of the trees were full with their own leaves. Mick found that odd but pushed the thought away. 

"Very apt." Tommy laughed. "As I was saying, there's bears but they rarely shoe their faces. The main problems are wolves and the - what's the word? I don't know the word for them. Chiens sauvages. Do you know?" Tommy turned around in his seat. "Do you know them?" He repeated. 

Thinking back to his little French dictionary, Mick couldn't recall such a word and he hated being so clueless. "Savages?" He repeated. 

"Sauvages." Tommy said. "Um, like wolves, but smaller. Dogs that don't have no home." He said. 

Finally, it clicked. "Oh. You mean stray dogs?" Mick said as the pieces fell into place. "Why did nobody tell me that there were stray dogs and wolves around here?" He demanded sharply. 

"Mr. Dingley should've." Tommy said before he abruptly opened the door and stepped out of the car. He shook his hair out of his face and then, before Mick could do it himself, opened the door like a servant. 

Mick sighed. "You didn't have to do that." He said, slowly getting out from the car, anyways. The wintry air burned his lungs and seemed to energize him at the same time, making him aware of the smallest things, like the hum of a bee and the smell of engine oil, which made Stormy wrinkle her nose. 

"Why not?" Tommy shut the door. 

Opening his mouth, Mick was about to reply but suddenly, there was a young man striding toward him with a rather surprising speed. The man looked familiar, and it took Mick a moment for the puzzle pieces to connect again and for him to realize that it was Nicholas Dingley. 

Nicholas Dingley looked much younger than his picture had suggested. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, wearing a white-button up and black dress pants. His shadowed eyes flickered between Tommy and Mick, and then his lips twisted in a smile. "Hello." He said. "I trust that Mr. Lee was _careful_ with the driving this time?" 

"Um, sure." Mick wasn't sure exactly why he lied, but it seemed important. 

"And how was your trip here, Mr. Mars?" Nicholas asked. 

"It was good, thanks." Mick looked around. "Very different from what I expected, and I'm not sure what I was expecting." He looked around, making sure that neither Stormy or Les had decided to wander off. Erik was standing nearby, looking up at the trees with a strange interest. 

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment." Nicholas's smile briefly turned into a grin and then he turned around. "Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'll call if I need you. Now, Mr. Mars, come with me, please." 


End file.
